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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25473676">to make a memory of you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearestwinter/pseuds/dearestwinter'>dearestwinter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crack Treated Seriously, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:54:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,362</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25473676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearestwinter/pseuds/dearestwinter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier, to cope with his loneliness after the mountain, pays a doll-maker to create a doll in Geralt's image.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Geraskier</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>to make a memory of you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've had this idea in mind for a week now and I just had to write it.</p><p>If you liked it, leave a comment please! 💚</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is, in Jaskier’s opinion, one of the most idiotic ideas he’s ever had. And that’s saying a lot, considering he has them on almost a daily basis.</p><p><em>Fuck it,</em> he thinks as he makes his way through the busy town square and toward the shop, <em>I’m a grieving man.</em></p><p>After the mountain, Jaskier’s life obviously changed. For the worst, he may add, since his heart got broken by who he had thought to be his most cherished friend. Who, and Jaskier swallows thickly as he thinks this, he thought would consider him a friend after 20 years of adventures and companionship. Being blamed for all the shit that has happened in Geralt’s life by the Witcher in question, the handsome face twisted in rage as he spits those hurtful words at the bard, who can only watch silently as his world falls apart in front of him, has certainly made Jaskier reconsider a few things.</p><p>As he made the trek down the mountain, Jaskier has thought long and deep about what his life will be like from here on. He’d had half a mind to turn on his heels and find the Witcher, and tell him that he is completely wrong, that Jaskier may have been destiny’s accessory in the misfortune that has accompanied Geralt since the bard convinced him to attend the ball at Cintra, but Jaskier is in no bloody way the cause for it. That is all the cruel lady’s work, not his. </p><p>Still, he hadn’t done it. The dwarves had already gone by the time Jaskier, dusty and exhausted from losing the way not once but twice, had reached the base of the godsdamned mountain. Alone, that is what he was in that moment, and that is what he will be until life puts Geralt on his path away, and viceversa. Jaskier doesn’t know what he will do then, when he has to face the Witcher again, if the man is going to want to have anything to do with Jaskier when they meet again after time has played its part and softened the edges of Geralt’s fury. In any case, that’s a big if, and Jaskier has no intention on making assumptions.</p><p>He does have the intention to make the wait a bit more bearable, though. One of the things Jaskier had realized while he walked the lonely road back to civilization after the whole shitty ordeal, is that he doesn’t really have anything to remember Geralt by. Jaskier had been generous with his coin whenever he got the chance to play at a tavern in a big city that he and Geralt had happened upon, and the bard had bought him gifts, because he thinks that’s what friends do. Small things, really, medical supplies or a piece of armor that was beyond mending by the Witcher’s rough hands. On one occasion he had even bought a new saddle for Roach after seeing hers so worn over time, and Jaskier remembers fondly the solemn ‘thank you’ he had received from Geralt, the only time he has thanked the bard for anything.</p><p>Geralt, for his part, had never bothered to buy Jaskier anything. The bard had thought that Geralt’s company was enough, and he still believes so, stupid as it is now that he knows his own company has never been welcomed by the Witcher.</p><p>But Jaskier knows that, at the end of the day, he cannot live off memories alone. Geralt never giving him a gift is the proof of that; Jaskier needs something he can touch. Something that comes from the Witcher is not possible, since he has nothing, but something that could make Jaskier remember him is. </p><p>Hence why he’s here, a week later and a pouch full of coins.</p><p>He had commissioned this from the doll-maker a few days ago, and had waited at the inn ever since, berating himself for being so stupid as to think this was ever a good idea in any shape or form, until a little boy had knocked on his door this morning to tell him it is done.</p><p>Jaskier adjusts the strap of his lute around his shoulder as he enters the shop. Dolls of any size, color, sex, and material sit on the shelves, staring down at him with empty eyes. A shiver runs down Jaskier’s spine as he glances around himself, now noticing that there are heads, torsos, and other body parts lying in some places, waiting for the doll-maker to put them back together.</p><p>The man is bending over the counter, a pot of glue in hand, as he is attaching the head of a quite big porcelain doll to its neck. He doesn’t even look up when Jaskier approaches, and the bard waits until the man is finished with his task before he hears the growl, “I have what you asked for, boy. Stay here and don’t you dare to touch anything while I’m gone.”</p><p>Jaskier is offended by this, but the feeling flees his body as he sees what the doll-maker has in hand when he returns. The bard had given him a thoroughly detailed description of Geralt’s face, hair, and usual clothing, but he had never thought the man would actually follow every single instruction to the letter.</p><p>Jaskier could only afford a common doll, and certainly a porcelain one wouldn’t have done the job, but as he takes it in his hand, he finds that it is more than enough. The Geralt doll is no more than eleven inches long, but it is a masterpiece from the amber-button eyes, to the hair made of fine white thread, to the carefully sewn armor and the two swords made of silver little sticks crossing on its back. The doll-maker had even nailed Geralt’s usual irritated features, and the scowl on his face.</p><p>“My good man, you certainly have done a wonderful job,” Jaskier says, turning the doll in his hands around again and again, marveled at the details.</p><p>The doll-maker hums at that. “Glad you like it, but you still owe me the other half of the pay.”</p><p>Jaskier quickly takes the pouch of coins out of his bag and places it on the counter before the man. He takes it, and apparently satisfied with the weight, all but shoos Jaskier out of his shop. This time, he doesn’t mind the doll-maker’s rudeness. As he walks back to the inn with Geralt the doll tucked to his chest in the crook of his arm, Jaskier can only think that he won’t be alone anymore.</p>
<hr/><p>Life is smiling at Jaskier again.</p><p>Spring has come and gone, and summer is in full blossom around him, sweat sticking his shirt to his back, but the trees are alive with the sounds of birds singing, perched on their branches, and the air is so sweet on his nose.</p><p>He and Little Geralt are walking through the sunlit forest, on their way to Novigrad. He has resorted to call the doll that; although no replacement for the real Geralt, the big strong Witcher made of flesh and blood, it is the next best thing. Whenever Jaskier finds himself needing to make camp by the side of the road, he places Little Geralt to rest against a log, and those amber buttons watch Jaskier as he starts a fire and babbles about nothing in particular. As he would have done with his former friend not too long ago, and obviously, expecting no answer from the doll. He’s not that crazy, although he hadn’t expected answers from the real Geralt either, to be completely honest.</p><p>When Jaskier has to perform at a tavern or a lord’s court, he puts Little Geralt in his bed and practices his lyrics, new or old, at it. The real Geralt would have said they are shit, all of them, a small smile gracing his beautiful face when he thinks Jaskier isn’t looking. So the bard hadn’t taken it to heart, although for the dramatics, he had pretended to be most insulted by his Witcher’s words every time. Now he wonders if Geralt had really thought they are shitty lyrics, and Jaskier had just ignored to see it, confusing it as friendly banter. Just as he had not known that Geralt blames him for the shitty things that happened in his life since Jaskier had decided to follow in his steps 20 years ago in Posada.</p><p>Perhaps Jaskier’s judgement of people is a bit defective. He asks Little Geralt if it is, this time waiting for an answer. He is only met with the chirping of the birds above. Perhaps they agree.</p><p>This is the downside of having a doll for company. Not receiving answers to the important questions. Jaskier gets tired of it sometimes, the oppressive silence, and tries to fill it with more chatter but it is not the same as someone offering their opinion about something. Geralt would have; for all that the man is quiet and brooding, he does have strong opinions when you know how to coax them out of him, to pick his interest about a specific matter, be it monsters or humankind.</p><p>Once, when Jaskier couldn’t stand it anymore, he had walked to a nearby lake and flung the doll into the water. Alas, Jaskier’s right arm is excellent to play the lute but not to throw things, because the doll had fallen pretty close to the shore. He had turned his back and walked two steps and a half before regret hit him with the same force Geralt’s fist had had that day in Posada. Jaskier had run back to get his damned doll, and had mumbled heartfelt apologies to it while he cradled it to his chest and sat close to the fire to let it dry.</p><p>But things are good now.</p><p>That is, until he reaches Beauclair. Jaskier pays for a room at the inn, leaving his things there, along with Little Geralt. He puts the doll to rest against the pillow on his bed, as he always does when he gets the chance and the coin to pay for a decent one.</p><p>He performs that night at the tavern, which is as busy as the streets outside. Although he hasn’t performed any song related to Geralt’s adventures, Jaskier still has many good ones about love and heroics in his repertoire. He moves around the tables with the fluidity that characterizes him, getting the patrons and even the barmaids to sing along to the catchy chorus, and when he finally calls it for the night, he finds his lute case overflowing with coins and free ale waiting for him at the bar.</p><p>He also finds a very familiar Witcher staring at him from the farthest table in the tavern.</p><p>A tremor runs through Jaskier’s body. Of all places in the bloody Continent, he had to run into Geralt here? In this very night?</p><p>Jaskier had been eyeing one of the customers all night, a pretty blond man with green eyes, who had in turn winked at him when Jaskier had passed casually by his table. But Geralt is here, and the blond man is completely forgotten. Geralt knows Jaskier knows he’s here, because he stands there gaping at the Witcher like a fish out of water.</p><p>He doesn’t need to approach Geralt’s table, because the Witcher stands, and in a few very long strides, Jaskier has those amber eyes he has missed so much, in front of himself. Geralt is scowling, but the bard knows he’s not truly angry but looking for the right words to say. Jaskier is not sure there are any.</p><p>“Jaskier,” the Witcher finally says.</p><p>“Geralt,” he replies, colder than he intended to.</p><p>“You were good.” Geralt winces and adds, “performing, I mean.”</p><p>Jaskier snorts, but he’s not amused at all. “I’m always good. Has it really taken you 20 years to realize that?”</p><p>Geralt looks berated. Serves the bastard well, Jaskier thinks, Melitele knows how he made me feel when he drove me away. Still, Jaskier finds no joy in watching the Witcher’s constricted face. He must really not have it in himself to be cruel, not even to the man who has said the cruelest of things to himself. To a friend.</p><p>“Is there something you need, Geralt?”, he asks, resigned.</p><p>“I wanted to… invite you for a drink?” At Jaskier’s raised eyebrow, the Witcher corrects himself. “Invite you for a drink,” he says firmly.</p><p>Jaskier shakes his head. “No need for that. I get free ale for tonight, due to my bardly services.” He gestures to the barmaid for two pints of ale, and follows Geralt to the table he was at. The girl sets the pints down in front of them and leaves.</p><p>“I know I hurt you,” Geralt starts, keeping his gaze down to his ale. “I had no reason to.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, you clearly had plenty of reasons. You listed them all, remember?”</p><p>Geralt grits his teeth. “They were no reasons, they were… I was… fuck.”</p><p>“Angry?” Jaskier suggests.</p><p>The Witcher nods and takes a sip of ale. “You were there, the <em>only</em> one there, the only one who hadn’t left me yet. Jaskier, I know it’s no excuse.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“But what you need to know is that I didn’t mean it, and I’m sorry about everything.”</p><p>Jaskier fidgets in his seat, his mind running. He knows Geralt is sorry, he would be blind if he could not see the regret reflected in those beautiful amber eyes. Still, he knows that he can't forgive Geralt right away, because those hurtful words had been said. He had asked the Geralt doll many times, <em>why? After all we have done for each other, why would you throw this all away?</em></p><p>Geralt had given Jaskier a purpose in life. He had turned Jaskier into the most famous bard in the Continent. He had kept Jaskier from becoming one of those bards whose lives amount to singing songs written by other people, and who no one remembers when their glory days are gone. In exchange, Jaskier had vowed to make the Witcher's hard life a bit easier to live, the Path a bit easier to walk.</p><p>After the mountain, the failure of that is not a weight Jaskier can easily take off his own shoulders, and not even Geralt's apology seems to be helping. </p><p>The Witcher, his beautiful and tormented Witcher, seems to be more perceptive than Jaskier had given him credit for.</p><p>"You can't forgive me." It's not voiced as a question, but as a fact. </p><p>"I can," Jaskier blurts out before Geralt can do something, mainly get up and leave Jaskier again. "I can, I just… I just need time."</p><p>"We've been apart for months, Jaskier." </p><p>The bard nods. "Yes, but I thought you were still angry at me."</p><p>"I stopped being angry at you the moment those damned words came out of my mouth," Geralt says, and he sounds so honest that the knot in Jaskier's stomach dissolves. </p><p>"You swear?" He sounds pathetic asking that, like the pathetic but hopeful little bard who had dared to follow a Witcher twenty years ago, and had never regretted it not even for a second, not even at the top of King Niedamir's mountain. </p><p>Jaskier doesn't realize a tear has rolled down his cheek when Geralt's arm reaches across the table and his big thumb wipes it away. They stay there, drinking ale and not really talking, but it's a comfortable silence. The patrons start to leave, drunkenly singing their way home. Jaskier is exhausted from performing and walking miles and miles to the city. </p><p>"Have you paid for a room yet?" Geralt asks. At Jaskier's nod, he stands. "I'll walk you there." </p><p>It is when they are going up the rickety wooden stairs of the inn that Jaskier remembers. <em>The doll.</em> The doll that was created in a certain Witcher's image, sitting on Jaskier's bed. </p><p>When they reach the door to Jaskier's room, he turns and says quickly, "Well, Geralt, it was nice to see you again. Have a good night, then, and I'll see you in the morning." </p><p>Geralt frowns. "Does that mean you want to travel with me again?"</p><p>"Of course, of course," Jaskier replies. He stands between the closed door and Geralt's body. "Why wouldn't I?" </p><p>"You're acting strange." Those amber eyes travel up and down the bard's body, perhaps searching for a sign of poisoning. Then he squints his eyes in suspicion. "Is there someone in your room?" </p><p>"What?"</p><p>"No," Geralt says, answering his own question apparently. "There isn't, but you are waiting for someone." </p><p>"I am not waiting for anyone."</p><p>Geralt smirks. "Then why don't you go into your room, bard?" </p><p>"I'm waiting for you to leave." </p><p>Jaskier knows that isn't the right answer because Geralt looks annoyed now, and perhaps a bit hurt. Shit, shit. "I don't-- Geralt, I didn't mean it like that." </p><p>"Clearly," the Witcher says, voice low, and already turning his back to Jaskier. The latter grabs his wrist to stop him. Geralt could easily free himself of the bard's grasp, but he just stands there, a pinched look in his face. </p><p>"Come inside, Geralt." Jaskier opens the door and moves aside to let the Witcher in. He closes the door behind them. Geralt takes a look around the room, sniffing for any sign of danger or something that might tell him why Jaskier is acting the way he is. </p><p>He finds the source of Jaskier's conflict, laying on the bed. The bard's heart is hammering against his ribcage, and he has half a mind to flee, when he hears Geralt <em>laugh</em>. </p><p>Jaskier has felt proud in the past for drawing genuine smiles and snorts out of the Witcher with his antics, but he has never made him laugh. It is a pretty sound, like everything in Geralt is really. Jaskier finds he wants to hear more of it, when it's not directed at him and his silly idea. </p><p>Geralt takes the steps that separate him from the bed and picks the doll in his hand. It looks tiny in the Witcher's big hand, as he turns it around to inspect the little swords attached to its back. Then he turns to face Jaskier, whose cheeks feel on fire.</p><p>"Don't say a word, Geralt," he defends himself. "I'll get rid of it in the morning. Wait, no, I'll get rid of it now. I'll throw it into the fire."</p><p>He extends his hand for Geralt to give him back the doll. When he doesn't, Jaskier grabs his wrist with one hand, and with the other grabs the doll's head and starts tugging. </p><p>Geralt, the strong bastard, doesn't even have to tighten his grip on the doll's body. "Jaskier," he calls.</p><p>"Let go, Witcher!" he yells, panting with exertion. </p><p>"<em>Jaskier</em>." Geralt raises his arm with bard still holding onto his wrist and all, and takes the doll out of his reach. Jaskier is as tall as the Witcher in fact, but Geralt twists his body to the side, and Jaskier has to let go, the doll now out of sight behind Geralt's back. </p><p>"You bloody arsehole, give it ba--!" </p><p>Geralt kisses him. His lips are warm against Jaskier's, who is almost too shocked to realize what's going on. Geralt's tongue darts out to trace his bottom lip, and then steps away. </p><p>"You weren't listening," is Geralt's excuse.</p><p>"Well, I am now," Jaskier pants. </p><p>Geralt holds the doll in front of them, and looks at Jaskier curiously. "Why?"</p><p>"I felt lonely and I wanted to talk someone's ear off." </p><p>"For old time's sake, huh?"</p><p>Jaskier scoffs, but is smiling. Geralt's amber eyes are amused, but not mocking. "I like it." </p><p>"You really don't," Jaskier replies, still blushing. </p><p>"I do," he confirms. "But you have me now, you don't need this anymore." </p><p>Jaskier stares at him, disbelieving. "Do you promise? No more of me being an 'outlet for your anger'?" </p><p>"I promise you, bard." </p><p>Jaskier beams, and this time he kisses the Witcher. When they fall into bed a few minutes later, the doll is safely tucked between their bodies.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm on <a href="http://maegelletargaryen.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>! Feel free to talk to me about anything 💞</p></blockquote></div></div>
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